Chris Halliwell turned and faced his seventeen-year-old cousin. ‘She’s the spitting image of Aunt Phoebe,’ Chris mused. Along with Wyatt, they were the surviving members of the Warren witches. Their parents had long since died, and of the three of them, Melinda Halliwell-Waters held it together the best. Now, she was showing that same strong side again as she stood her ground, her arms folded across her chest.

Chris shook his head. “No. You have to stay here in New York with your dad and Grandpa. I need someone to keep them safe.”

The teenager wasn’t about to give up. “You know they can take care of themselves. They’ve seen more demons than we have.”

“Mel, this is not up for discussion. Wyatt believes you’re dead, and I want to keep it that way.” Exasperated, he ran a hand through his dark hair. “I don’t need another family member to turn or die on me.”

“I’ll be okay.”

“Mel…”

“You need someone with premonitions. Neither one of you inherited that power; I did. I could tell you what Wyatt will do before he even knows.”

“You know it doesn’t work that way.”

“But I can help.”

“No, Mel!” An eerie silence descended between them, signaling the end of the discussion. Chris sighed as he hugged Melinda. She was his last link to the Halliwell family, and he’d be damned if he’d lose her, too.

Pulling away, he met her eyes. “I’ll come back soon. God willing, none of this will ever happen.”

“And if you don’t?”

“I’ll come back. I promise.” With a lingering smile, Chris carefully orbed back to San Francisco.